


Where Men Are Free

by Foophile



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Community: rounds_of_kink, M/M, On a boat!, Sibling Incest, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-10 14:46:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foophile/pseuds/Foophile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s no window in the twelve foot cabin, more like a metal box, but he knows that Michael’s gone wandering again. His little brother hasn’t been able to sit still since they’d arrived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Men Are Free

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:**  
>  "I wish that I'd sail the darkened seas  
> On a great big clipper ship  
> Going from this land here to that  
> In a sailor's suit and cap  
> Away from the big city  
> Where a man cannot be free  
> Of all of the evils of this town  
> And of himself, and those around  
> Oh, and I guess that I just don't know  
> Oh, and I guess that I just don't know"
> 
> Michael/Lincoln;  
>  **Kink:** Sex at sea (with angst and escapism; hurt/comfort)
> 
>  **Notes/Warnings:** Includes slash between two brothers. All mistakes are my own.

Lincoln wakes with a start. He nearly rolls off of the tiny bunk bed of the cargo ship’s cabin. At its best the bed could be called a twin but Lincoln’s had worse. He wouldn’t dare complain about the spare accommodations that Michael’s somehow acquired for the long trip to Panama.

There’s no window in the twelve foot cabin, more like a metal box, but he knows that Michael’s gone wandering again. His little brother hasn’t been able to sit still since they’d arrived. Or more specifically, since Sara was picked up by the police in Chicago.

Lincoln sits up in bed, yawning and grimacing at the stench of his breath. The boat’s constant listing from side to side made him sick from the moment they’d arrived. Lincoln can still feel the motion in his stomach but it bothers him less.

Unlike Michael, he has been terrified of leaving the false security of their cabin. Sure, Michael may have dropped a fortune to get on the boat but that didn’t mean that their fugitive status was overlooked. If any of the sailors happen to place exactly who was on board, almost a certainty since their faces are plastered over every television in America, then they would have only the sea to run to. And Lincoln isn’t going overboard.

Michael left his sweatshirt and watch in his top bunk and when Lincoln manages to stand he holds up the cheap time piece to the faint light coming through the door jamb. It's just past three in the morning. Too early or late and certainly too long for Michael to wander about on a dangerous freighter, just daring a hundred ton container to collapse on him.

Lincoln leaves the cabin in darkness and goes down the cramped gangway to the shared bathroom. He washes his hands and face, uses his finger to sweep out some of the funk from his mouth. He doesn’t care enough to find the toothbrushes in Michael’s book bag.

Outside it’s dark and windy. The sea is veil of rolling blackness as far as Lincoln can see with the moon overhead shining like a giant spotlight. Rows and rows of containers tilt and right themselves, make him wonder if the movement is the boat, the sea, or the very earth itself. Cold, salty sprinkles whip across his face. It sounds for a moment like music is playing.

Lincoln finds Michael around the starboard side of the freighter, where the hulking pillars of containers lessen to two rows. Michael sits in one of the lawn chairs the sailors put near the railing. His long body almost appears to be relaxed, that is, if Lincoln didn’t know what to look for.

A sailor inside is playing the radio and some old song that Lincoln’s heard only once is floating out over the deck of the giant freighter. Mixed with the roar of the sea, the two chords of a guitar playing over and over again make him shiver with sadness. The song is depressing as hell, about heroin and addiction, but Lincoln remembers that it’s also about escape so he listens to the words anyway, at least for a little while.

“I wish that I'd sail the darkened seas  
On a great big clipper ship  
Going from this land here to that  
In a sailor's suit and cap  
Away from the big city  
Where a man cannot be free  
Of all of the evils of this town  
And of himself, and those around  
Oh, and I guess that I just don't know.”

“I don’t know about you, but this music makes me feel like dancing.” Lincoln smirks as Michael jumps. His brother turns and the moonlight catches the moisture on his cheeks. Lincoln wishes it was sea spray.

“It’s late, you should get some sleep.” Lincoln says.

Michael’s voice is so soft that Lincoln has to come to his side to hear. “Yeah, I know. You go on back. I’ll be there soon.”

But Lincoln doesn’t want to leave. “She saved us you know.”

“Yes, I know, Linc.” Michael pauses and sighs. “She shouldn’t have had to.”

“We chose to fight back, Michael. We chose. And we brought Sara in to help because she wanted to come. But we lost.”

“And she’s paying for it!” Michael shouts. The sound is immediately swallowed up by the sea. “How fair is that, Lincoln? She didn’t want to lead the cops back to us, so she took the fall and now she’s going to jail for God knows how long.” His low voice cracks and Michael buries his face in his hands.

When his shoulders start to shake, Lincoln puts a gentle hand on the cold skin of his brother’s head. He lets Michael cry for as long as he wants. The younger man needs it; they’d been through a lot and lost more than either expected. Just the thought of LJ out there somewhere, going to school and living with a complete stranger because his father has to go into hiding makes Lincoln almost want to join Michael.

The last dregs of the song float to completion and nothing comes in its place. Perhaps the sailor also realized how late it was. The sea roars instead and it seems to grow even darker to match the brother’s emotions.

“Did we use her Linc? The way I used Nika? Was hurting them worth-.” Michael breaks off, covering his mouth as if he’s afraid to finish.

Lincoln comes around, kneeling in front of his brother. Michael’s eyes are dark and tortured. He’s been waiting for when Michael would regret what he did. For when he would finally say that all the pain and loss weren't worth saving Lincoln.

Everyday it’s become more apparent to Lincoln but Michael…Michael has remained as hopeful as a five-year-old. And until now, Lincoln has let his little brother’s endless optimism rub off on him. Its depletion makes Lincoln feel ill. Makes him want to somehow tell Michael that everything is going to be okay even if Lincoln doesn’t believe it.

Michael’s wiping his face with rough hands and pulling away from Lincoln before he can find words of comfort. The moon comes shining out from behind the clouds and illuminate his brother’s pale face as Michael leans back in the chair. Lincoln finds Michael’s hands in the dark. Squeezes them in order to catch Michael’s sad gaze.

“I know I don’t say this enough. Hell, at all, but I,” Lincoln swallows. “I love you Mike. And I would love you still even if you didn’t do all of this.” Even if you’d let me die, Lincoln is afraid to say.

Michael’s smile is tight. “I know you do. You always have.”

“Yeah, well, are you ready to go in now? I think this sea air is getting to my head.”

Michael’s hands turn around and keep Lincoln from standing. “I don’t regret breaking you out.”

Lincoln can’t help shaking his head. Michael grasps it, leaning close to stare.

“I regret how many people have gotten mixed up in this. Hurt by what those people have done. But I don’t regret keeping them from executing you. I never will.”

Lincoln can see Michael’s sincerity; he can feel it in the way the fingers on his face clench just a little bit when Lincoln pulls away slightly. Michael’s face is so close that Lincoln’s stomach tightens and he feels warmth slide lower down. He pulls Michael’s hands away before his little brother can see the look on his face.

“Come on, it’s so late we’re turning into a couple of girls.” Thunder sounds in the distance, somewhere over the sea, and both brothers stand.

The waves are a little rougher on the way back to the cabin. Lincoln does more stumbling into walls, in stark contrast to Michael whose graceful gait seems to apply even on boats. Lincoln’s too busy watching to be jealous.

They pass a sailor in the narrow halls and Michael grins when Lincoln nearly smashes his face into the wall to keep the other man from looking closely. The sailor does nothing more than give them the evil eye.

“You think he recognized us?”

Michael rolls his eyes. “I think he was too busy calling us fags to do that, Linc.”

Lincoln glares down the hall to where the sailor departed. “Did he say that out loud? I didn’t hear him but-.”

Michael grabs him before Lincoln can decide if he wants to kick the man’s ass. He’s laughing as Michael pushes him into their cabin and just before the door shuts out the hallway light it looks like Michael is chuckling as well.

Nothing is fixed but its better for the moment.

When they go to sleep, Lincoln can just see Michael’s long legs hanging over the foot of the top bunk.  
_______

The second day at sea, Lincoln squeezes into the tiny cubicle shower and washes off all of the essential parts he can reach. He runs into a whole gang of sailors on the way back to his cabin and the squinting look he gets encourages him to stay inside for the remainder of the day.

“It’s stranger to them that I have to keep getting you things.” Michael mutters as he returns with their dinner on two plates. “Makes us look like honeymooners.”

Lincoln almost chokes on a piece of ham and after he swallows, he jokes. “What a really shitty honeymoon.”

Michael cracks a smile, wriggles into the corner of Lincoln’s bunk with his own plate on his knees and they eat in silence. Michael’s eyes are still haunted, still stuck on Sara, and Lincoln knows that isn’t going to change for weeks, maybe even months.

That night, Michael leaves the cabin again and gentle rocking of the boat puts Lincoln to sleep before it grows late enough for him to worry.

He wakes when the bed dips and a body lies down on his side. He knows instinctively that it’s Michael but before he can ask why, his brother’s hand is covering his mouth.

“I just want to be here with you.” Michael’s whisper makes Lincoln shiver. “I keep thinking about her and I just want to… stop for a little while.”

Lincoln’s throat is dry, his breath raspy. The dark behind his lids matches that of the room and makes his head swim like he’s seasick again. Lincoln pulls Michael’s hand down to speak. “I thought you didn’t-.”

“I know what I’ve said before and I’m sorry.” Michael interrupts. “But I need to touch you. Please.”

Lincoln feels his whole body heat and he tips his head back when Michael’s hand runs down his neck. He sits up when he feels Michael do the same.

“I want to see you.” Lincoln says, and then blinks as Michael hits the button for the small wall light next to the bunk.

Michael’s pale skin shines compared to the dim shadows of the rest of the cabin. He’s already discarded his shirt and jeans, and his tattooed torso is defined in sharp relief. Lincoln’s still shocked looking at it. So beautiful and unpredictably menacing, both like his brother and sometimes the exact opposite. But for right now, Michael’s so gorgeous that Lincoln can hardly breathe.

“Stop thinking.” Michael straddles his hips. Lincoln pulls off his shirt with Michael’s help and reaches for his jeans with shaking hands.

“Look who's talking.”

Michael leans over him; his tempting lips only a breath away from Lincoln’s. “Stop that too.”

“Okay.” Lincoln says before he leans up and catches that mouth with his own. He can’t keep in a groan at the taste.

When Michael returns the kiss, harder, almost desperate, and the moan with a rough edge that makes Lincoln so hot he thinks he might melt, he starts to scrap at the rest of his clothing. Michael pulls Lincoln’s jeans off his legs and hooks his thumbs in his boxers. Lincoln doesn’t blink as he helps his brother pull those off as well.

Michael’s cock is already hard and thick, bouncing against his stomach and begging for Lincoln to wrap his hand, his mouth, around it.

They collapse into each other with lips and tongue and hands wandering everywhere. Lincoln can’t think, can hardly breathe. He hopes that Michael isn’t regretting this one second then is reveling in feel of Michael’s smooth skin rubbing against his own. Their cocks bump, scrape, and both men gasp.

When Michael shifts on Lincoln’s lap and pulls away, Lincoln holds onto a strong thigh until his brother chuckles. “I’m getting the lotion. I want you in me.”

Lincoln’s whole body clenches in anticipation. “God, hurry up.”

The long line of Michael’s body keeps Lincoln occupied the few seconds it takes for Michael to rummage in his bag. Then, the tiny travel sized lotion is all he can see. Lincoln snatches it from Michael.

“Let me do it.”

Michael leans down to nibble at his neck and chest. “Yeah, do it.”

The lotion nearly erupts in Lincoln’s hand, but he uses what isn’t slathered over his belly to reach under Michael and flirt with the soft skin of his ass. Michael’s moaning and kissing and licking him into frenzy. Lincoln presses one finger into his brother’s tight pucker, holding his breath until he’s in up to the first knuckle.

“Go faster, Linc.”

Their lips brush as Lincoln tips his head back. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t care. I want to remember what you feel like.”

Lincoln looks into his brother’s green eyes, tries to see if he means it. “You want to remember why I’m worth it.”

Michael freezes. “Don’t say that. You’re always worth it.”

“No, I’m not, Michael.” Lincoln’s throat hurts to say it.

“Shut up.” Michael’s eyes change, get harder, and then his little brother’s all over him. Kissing him so hard his lips scrape against his teeth. Michael’s fingers dig into his arms painfully and Michael yanks Lincoln’s fingers away only to replace them with own.

Lincoln watches Michael fuck himself with his mouth open. Michael looks like he’s in pain but he doesn’t stop shoving in one, then two fingers, bucking his hips.

Suddenly the fingers are gone and, so fast, Michael’s rubbing slick hands over Lincoln’s hard cock and sinking down onto him.

“Fuck!” Lincoln’s panting and shaking, trying not to just thrust into tight heat until his hips break. He’s watching his cock disappear into his brother’s ass and watching Michael’s face as the younger man bears down. Michael’s biting his lip so hard Lincoln fears he’ll draw blood and his eyes are clenched shut. Sweating is dripping from both of their bodies, streaking Lincoln’s skin when Michael braces himself on his brother’s chest.

When finally Michael’s ass rests on Lincoln’s hips, the younger man slowly opens his eyes, completely black with pupil, and says, “You’re worth everything, Lincoln.”

Lincoln can’t speak so instead he pulls Michael down to feast on his mouth. His eyes prickle with emotion so Lincoln doesn’t open them and uses his lips to kiss everything he cannot say.

Michael squirms in his lap, using his thighs to lift himself up, Lincoln thrusts back in without thinking. Michael moans painfully yet lifts himself again.

Lincoln holds onto his hips and lets his brother take charge. His heart still feels like it’s about to burst from his chest and Michael looks so beautiful above him, groaning and riding his cock as if they have forever.

Lincoln feels his end coming too quickly and wraps a tight fist around Michael’s cock to bring him along as well. Michael curls forward to trade a sloppy kiss, whispers his name, then thrusts into Lincoln’s hand until he stills and comes over his brother’s stomach.

The tight clenching of Michael’s ass, his short panting breaths on his lips, and the pinch of his brother’s blunt nails into his chest, drive Lincoln to a toe curling orgasm.

Michael kisses him through the aftershocks, whispering, “always” in a tired voice. After a few minutes, the room’s chill closes in on their naked bodies and Lincoln holds Michael tighter. He pulls the thin bunk blanket over them both. He doesn’t want Michael to move and they seem to be thinking the same thing because his brother simply slides off his lap and fits his long body between Lincoln and the cold wall.

They’re both asleep in minutes.

When Lincoln wakes in the morning, Michael is gone from the cabin. If it weren’t for his nudity and the crescent shaped bruises on his chest and arms, Lincoln would have thought it all a dream.

END  



End file.
